


Misdirection

by miitgaanar



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-28 08:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19808407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miitgaanar/pseuds/miitgaanar
Summary: n. a form of deception, usually used by magicians, in which the performer draws the audience’s attention to one thing to distract them from another.The war is over, the souls the Mad Titan had wiped from existence brought back from whatever dark abyss he had banished them to, his grand plan for the universe thwarted at last—but the peace that follows is almost worse than those years of terror and grief.Desperate for a purpose, a distraction from the anxiety that plagues her waking hours and sleepless nights, Cassie jumps at the chance to help when Nick Fury calls looking for aid in some new, potentially world ending threat.But there’s something off about this Beck guy…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay SO. This is… technically the future of my fic [Target](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487278). Which is, uh, nowhere near finished. But also this idea bit me in the ass when I saw Far From Home last Wednesday and it absolutely would not let go.
> 
> So. Here we are.
> 
> If you’re reading this, make sure that you treat yourself to the snack of your choice. You deserve it.

It had taken Fury exactly seven months and eighteen days to contact them. Cassie should know, she'd been tallying every day that passed since the funeral, since they said goodbye to Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.

Since they all went their separate ways.

It was weirdly easy to accept at first. After all those years of chaos and strife, it was nice to just _be_. The grief was there, open and exposed like a festering wound, and the nights were still hard. More than once Bucky had to shake her awake, assuring her that he was there, that he hadn’t just turned to ash in her hands again. Like he had in every other nightmare that plagued her sleepless nights.

But that was all they were—nightmares. As much as they dared to try to reopen those ever so slowly healing wounds, to make her relive the horrors she had seen in the wake of the Mad Titan’s universe wide genocide, she always woke in the arms of a man she loved. A man she thought for sure she would never see again.

And her nightmares couldn’t take that from her, no matter how hard they tried.

And yet… that peace and security became stifling after awhile. Cassie found that the quiet—the _stillness_ —was impossible to bear. It harkened back to those days, those _years_ , spent listless and helpless mourning the lost, trying desperately to push through the constant fog that loomed in their heads, to find some sense of normalcy in a world that was far from normal.

But things were no better now than they were then. At least not for her. These days she felt as if she were perpetually looking over her shoulder, just waiting for the other inevitable shoe to drop. There was no peace in a world like this, in a world where it was possible to kill billions with the snap of a finger. Where you could remove the ones you held dearest from existence as if they had never lived at all.

She felt as if she were living a lie, just as she had for those five long years.

No, she didn’t take well to peace. Maybe that was why she answered that call from a restricted number, why she dragged Bucky with her to a decrepit, abandoned warehouse on Manhattan’s west side to meet with Nick Fury.

Why she currently paced the dirty concrete floor, her every step like a clap of thunder in the dim, cavernous space, waiting for Fury to grace them with his presence.

“Cass,” Bucky said softly, his voice laced with obvious worry. He leaned against one of the solid concrete supports that lined the empty warehouse, his arms crossed over his chest. She knew he was trying to look relaxed, unconcerned, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, in the forced slouch of his back. “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor at this rate. Sit down.”

Cassie scoffed, continuing in her pacing. How could she possibly sit still? What did Fury want? And with _them_ of all people? The Winter Soldier and the girl who was unceremoniously entangled in the affairs of gods and super-soldiers. She couldn’t even imagine what this could entail. “On this floor? Absolutely not. There’s probably rat shit everywhere.”

Bucky sighed, brushing a wayward strand of his long, dark hair from his face. His steel blue eyes followed her every step, his mouth set in a thin, grim line as she walked back and forth along that invisible path she had set for herself. “It’s New York, you probably sat in rat shit on the subway ride here.”

That made her pause mid-step, her gaze shifting to fix the fearsome super-soldier with a glare. “That’s not helpful.”

A crooked smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “It made you stop, didn’t it?”

She was about to respond, a vulgar word or two on the tip of her tongue, when the heavy steel doors at the back of the warehouse suddenly let out a loud _bang_ and began to creak open. Bucky immediately pushed off of the support beam to come stand beside her, his arms now hanging at his sides. The tension in his shoulders seemed to double, the black hoodie he wore doing little to hide the rigidity in his stance. 

Ever the soldier, she supposed.

“It’s about time one of you kids answered your damn phone,” a deep, familiar voice called. It echoed harshly off the walls of the gutted building, making the ex-Director of SHIELD seem far louder than he actually was. “I’m not a fan of voicemails.”

Bucky relaxed next to her, his arms crossed once again—though his face remained as impassive as ever. “I don’t have a phone,” he deadpanned.

“Your girlfriend does.” Fury nodded toward Cassie. She never thought she’d be so happy to see that infamous eyepatch and ridiculously dramatic black coat of his again. “And thank God for that. But I wasn’t talking about you.”

Cassie and Bucky exchanged a glance, brows arched in confusion.

“Never mind.” Fury waved away the unasked question hanging in the air, abruptly changing the subject. “I’ll be dealing with that later. I’m sure you want to know why I asked you here.”

“That’d be nice, yeah,” Bucky said. Cassie elbowed him in the side. He didn’t even flinch.

Fury stood ramrod straight before them, his hands clasped behind his back. His typical stance when he had something to say and wanted to be heard. Clearly he meant business. “We have a potential new threat on the horizon.”

“Do we now,” Bucky said, the question coming out as an amused scoff. Cassie tried elbowing him again. Still nothing.

Fury merely continued, his features severe. “It seems that whole mess with the Infinity Stones caused a rip in the very fabric of our reality. And, as a result, we’ve inherited the problems of another Earth.”

Cassie blinked. “Pardon?” She couldn’t keep the utter bewilderment from her voice. Surely she'd heard him wrong. A barely intelligible ‘ _You’ve gotta be kidding me_ ’ came from where Bucky stood to her left. She ignored him. “What do you mean ‘another Earth’?”

The soft crackle of radio static reached her ears, like the sound of an incoming comm message. Fury’s head just barely tilted to the side, a habit he had when listening to his earpiece, as if he could lean in closer to better hear who was on the other end. He glanced back up at them, measuring them up with his single good eye. “Maybe it’d be best if you hear it from the source.”

She and Bucky locked eyes once again. He just shrugged. Hell if either of them could understand why Fury was always so cryptic.

The warehouse doors opened with another set of bangs and loud, metallic screeches, the noise causing a rather unpleasant sensation to skitter up Cassie’s spine and into her jaw, her teeth aching as she clamped down on the urge to wince. She must’ve failed in the attempt, because she felt Bucky take a step closer to her.

“It’s about time you showed up, Mr. Beck,” Fury said, turning to face the man pushing through those large, heavy doors. A long, plum colored cape billowed out behind him, perfectly framing the golden chest armor and green bodysuit he wore. In some places, both the cape and armor glowed a magnificent shade of bright blue. Cassie had to blink a few times to ensure she wasn’t seeing things. “I thought I was gonna have to give the brief myself.”

“Apologies, Director,” he said, his voice light and pleasant, but with an undercurrent of severity. “I wanted to do a sweep of the city. This would be the perfect place for one of those monsters to strike.”

Cassie arched an eyebrow. The faintly exaggerated tone in the man’s voice wasn’t lost on her. He sounded almost… theatrical. With the same cadence an actor on the stage would adopt to ensure the audience truly understood his plight. It was bizarre.

Bucky must’ve noticed, too, as his choice of greeting was: “And who’s this clown?”

Both Fury and the man in question turned to face them, the former’s annoyance playing out clearly on his face. “This, Sergeant Barnes, is Quentin Beck. And he just may be the only thing standing between us and another world ending catastrophe.”

“Oh, no, we can’t have another one of those, can we?” Bucky's derision was blatant.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Cassie hissed, placing her hands on her hips to keep from outright punching the former assassin. It’d probably hurt her far more than it’d hurt him, anyway.

Fury looked like he was about to say something, but was quickly cut off by Beck. “It’s fine, Director. Allow me.”

Beck strode forward, his head high and his shoulders back. The picture of an experienced soldier. He looked like he could be around Bucky’s age—physically speaking, at least. His hair was a deep chestnut and cut short, the strands swept back off his face in a neat, precise way. Even the thick growth of scruff lining his jaw was carefully, almost painfully neat. Not quite long enough to be a beard, but not short enough to be scruff either.

He was the epitome of the heroes the world had come to rely on—and something about that rubbed Cassie the wrong way.

He extended his hand to Bucky, a polite smile on his lips, though it didn’t seem to quite meet his bright blue eyes. “It’s a pleasure, Sergeant Barnes. Director Fury briefed me on what you’ve endured on this Earth. Truly, I’m sorry to have to drag you back into the trenches.”

Bucky just glared at him, his arms still folded over his chest. Something told Cassie that he wished it was customary to shake hands using the left arm. Instead, he just nodded. “A pleasure.”

Beck let his hand fall back to his side, nodding in return. He pointedly avoided looking at her as he addressed Fury. “And this is?” he asked, gesturing back to her like she was an unwanted stray. She tried her best to contain the irritation prickling beneath her skin. She wasn’t sure she succeeded.

“Cassandra Theron,” Fury intoned. “A longtime unofficial affiliate of ours. Pretty sure we tried to get you to join up more than once. I don’t do well with rejection, you know.”

“Considering your little organization turned out to be run by Nazis, I’d have to say I made the right decision.” Cassie couldn’t help but glare at the back of Beck’s head. He still refused to look at her.

“And yet you still end up smack dab in the middle of my affairs. Had you joined up, you could’ve at least gotten a paycheck for your troubles.” Fury then turned to Beck. “She’s trustworthy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The newcomer visibly stiffened, but did not acknowledge her. If he wasn’t careful, she might wind up punching _him_ before this meeting was over. “Not at all. I merely wish to keep any civilian involvement to a minimum. There’s no need to endanger more people than we have to.”

“That won’t be a problem, Mr. Beck,” she cut in, leaning forward slightly to force herself into his line of sight, a placating smile on her lips. She saw Bucky shift uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye. “I assure you I’m more than accustomed to how these things work.”

Beck finally turned to face her, regarding her with a tight smile and a curt nod. He looked at her with what she could only describe as unbridled sadness, those bright blue eyes darkening to a deep cobalt. It caught her so off guard that she couldn’t find it in her to ask what the fuck his problem was.

And when he spoke, it was with the softness and intimacy of someone overcome by grief. “Glad to hear it, Miss Theron.”

Cassie flinched, unsure of how to handle his abrupt change in demeanor. At her reaction, a wounded look crossed his face, a look that made her gut twist with guilt.

An incredibly awkward silence permeated the cool, dusty air.

Mercifully, it was cut short.

“So is anyone gonna tell us why we’re here in this asbestos infested death trap?” Bucky loudly interjected, stopping just short of stepping between Beck and Cassie. Whether it was because he could feel the discomfort rippling off her in waves, or because Beck continued to look at her like she had just told him his dog died, she wasn’t sure.

Either way, she was grateful when Beck broke eye contact, shaken from whatever stupor he had fallen into. He blinked a few times, his hand coming up to comb through his hair. A nervous habit for some, but a common way to stall as you searched for the right words.

Cassie wrinkled her nose, her uneasiness momentarily forgotten. This had better be good.

“Of course,” Beck sighed shakily, walking back over to stand beside Fury, his hands clasped in front of him. He cleared his throat before speaking again, that theatrical cadence back in full swing. “What I’m about to tell you two may seem impossible, but you must believe me when I tell you that the threat is all too real.”

“Just get on with it.” Bucky didn’t even bother to hide his exasperation.

If Cassie didn’t know better, she’d have sworn she saw a muscle in Beck’s jaw twitch. “I’m from Earth, but not _this_ Earth. Where I come from, powerful entities known as ‘Elementals’ wreaked havoc on the people of Earth, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake. These entities embodied the might of the four base elements—gods of water, earth, air, and fire in their own right. And now, they have somehow found their way here, to your reality.”

“We have an idea of how that might’ve happened,” Fury said.

Cassie nodded slowly. “The Infinity Stones.”

“Whatever power they unleashed upon this world, it allowed these monsters passage from my world into yours.” Beck paused, a hand coming up to rest on his chest, right over where his heart would be. “I followed. They took everything from me. Friends, family…” His voice cracked, his hand fidgeting with what looked like a simple gold wedding band on his ring finger, and again he refused to look at her. Cassie’s brow furrowed as she watched him. 

After a moment, he stood straighter, his words filled with a renewed conviction. “They destroyed my world, and I cannot let that happen to this Earth as well. They must be stopped.”

A beat of silence followed, broken by a disbelieving ‘ _uh-huh_ ’ from Bucky.

“I swear it’s the truth, Sergeant Barnes, as inconceivable as it may seem.” Beck sounded appropriately desperate. 

Truth be told, she was on the fence.

Fury tapped at something on his wrist, projecting a bluish hued hologram of the planet in the air before them. Various spots on the globe were highlighted in red. “You heard what happened in Mexico yesterday, Barnes?”

Bucky jabbed a thumb toward Cassie. “She watches the news, not me.”

“ _Yes_ , he heard about it.” She glared up at him and he didn’t dare to contradict her. “A tragedy, to be sure. What about it?”

“One of the Elementals—Earth, to be specific—was responsible,” Beck replied solemnly.

“Is that right.” Bucky was less than impressed. “Dust storms can be pretty bad, y’know. I read an awful lot about the Dust Bowl when I was a kid. Do they teach you guys about that these days?”

“How many dust storms you know that got a face?” Fury wasn’t amused.

“C’mon, Fury.” Bucky gestured toward Beck. “Doesn’t this all seem like a bit much?”

“You fought a big purple alien and his army of bitchass aliens, got turned to dust, came back five years later, and fought that big purple alien and his army of bitchass aliens _again_ , and _this_ is a bit much?”

Cassie frowned slightly. He had a point.

“The mind can only take so much, Director,” Beck said. “He can’t be blamed for finding this… difficult to take in.”

“Now you listen—” Bucky made to take a step toward Beck, but Cassie put a hand on his arm, holding him back. She wasn’t in the mood to play referee.

“What is it you even want us to do?” she asked, throwing Bucky a warning look. He huffed out a breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “As skilled as he is, I don’t think he’s capable of taking on the destructive powers of the elements, and I’m pretty sure I left my ‘Waterbending for Dummies’ book at home.”

“We want him for his expertise in military maneuvers and covert operations,” Fury said. “And he could be good for crowd control, too. People tend to listen to a guy with a metal arm.”

“And her?” Bucky asked, his voice hard. “What do you need her for?”

Fury leveled him with a stare that would have cowed a lesser man. “Would you be here if she wasn’t?”

Bucky had nothing to say to that.

Cassie visibly bristled. Fury may as well have slapped her. “I’m gonna try to pretend that isn’t an insult.”

Fury just chuckled. “Hill will need help with something or other. You’re just not goin’ out in the field. Quit lookin’ at me like I just kicked your cat.”

A handout to ensure Bucky was on board. Awesome.

Were she not so desperate to be involved in something, anything at all, she might’ve told the spymaster to go fuck himself.

“And you’re so sure we’re gonna agree to this.” Bucky looked between the two men through the still slowly rotating hologram. Cassie tried to identify what some of the highlighted points might indicate, but the best she could do was ‘Europe’ and ‘Northern Africa.’

“Sergeant Barnes,” Beck spoke up, his voice imploring. “Wouldn’t you rather come with us and be right about this all being nothing, than stay behind and be wrong?”

Bucky sighed loudly through his nose, looking between the floor and Cassie and back again, his foot tapping out a rhythmic, anxious beat that echoed throughout the warehouse. A terrible knot formed in her gut, Beck’s words reverberating loudly in her head. She knew what Bucky was thinking. The words were reminiscent of a dear, dear friend of theirs. A kid from Brooklyn who would never run from a fight. Who would never turn down the opportunity to save the world.

Who never shied away from doing the right thing.

Beck was good. She had to admit that much.

A reluctant groan fell from Bucky’s lips, followed by a minute shake of his head and a soft ‘ _fuck it_.’ “Where do you need us?”

The former SHIELD Director’s brow rose. “Ever been to Morocco?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BUDDY this chapter is. A lot. It is far longer than I was expecting, and did not end where I was planning. Such is the writing life.
> 
> Anyway, I apologize for for this mess. If you are reading this chapter, I hope you find a crisp $50 bill on the ground.

For all that Cassie had seen in the last thirteen years, all of the death and trauma she’d lived through, you’d think that she would be fearless in the face of any and all obstacles.

But, as it turned out, that fearlessness didn’t extend to planes.

“How did you think we were gonna get there?” Bucky teased. “Sailboat?”

“I don’t like those much either, thank you,” Cassie replied, staring up at the massive onyx cargo plane Fury had managed to commandeer for them. The sunlight glinted brightly off of its aluminum paneling, forcing her to squint as she watched a group of engineers examine the engines and undercarriage. It was nerve wracking. “Flying over land is bad enough, but the ocean? Do you know how often the wrecks from plane crashes just go completely missing? And you likely wouldn’t die on impact. You’d be trapped in there. Clawing at the windows begging for air as the cabin fills with ruthless, icy water—”

“Okay! Okay, I get it, you hate the ocean,” Bucky quickly said, his hands outstretched as he sat down on one of the crates that had yet to be loaded into the cargo hold. He was infuriatingly okay with all of this, especially considering he wanted nothing to do with this whole world saving business.

“I don’t hate the ocean,” Cassie grumbled. “I just don’t trust it to not swallow me whole when plummeting from forty thousand feet in the air. ”

“How did you even survive that trip we took across the Atlantic to get to Europe?”

“First of all, I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You were going whether I went with you or not.” Bucky’s face softened a bit at that. Those years they spent in hiding were dear to them both. It had been a weirdly simpler time, all things considered. “Second of all, I lived in perpetual fear that a rogue wave would capsize the ship before we made it to Spain.”

Bucky relieved himself of the black hoodie he’d come to favor, revealing a plain dark blue t-shirt underneath. He folded the cloth into a vaguely square shaped cushion as he rested his head back against the larger crate behind him, his hands clasped neatly over his abdomen. He had no right to be so at ease right now. “What I’m gathering from all of this is that you don’t travel well, and clearly we don’t travel enough if I’m just realizing this now.”

“I travel _fine_. I love traveling! Just, y’know, not in planes.”

“If we take a cruise after this mess, what kind of manic behavior can I expect from you?” Bucky’s smile was mocking. If she wasn’t so sure he would catch her fist before it came anywhere near him, she’d punch that smug smile right off his face.

“If we have clear skies and calm waters? I’ll be sunbathing on the deck and soaking in the pool.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And if we don’t?”

Cassie glared at him, huffing angrily. “I’ll be sleeping with my life vest on.”

Bucky hummed to himself. “Not as bad as I was picturing.”

“And what were you picturing?”

“You setting up shop in a lifeboat while I go clubbing.”

Cassie laughed out loud. “ _You_? Clubbing? You’re like a hundred.”

“A hundred and _seven_ , excuse you,” he corrected. “We just celebrated two months ago. Don’t be going senile on me already, babe. I don’t know if I can take it.”

She looked up at the plane again, her hands on her hips. “I take it back. I can’t wait to fly in this thing. I can just flip a switch and push you out the loading ramp.”

A deep, throaty chuckle escaped him, and she couldn’t help but smile in return. He had always been rather good at distracting her from the various anxieties that plagued her mind. It probably came from all of the demons that still haunted his.

“Are you two done? Or can we get this show on the road?” Fury strode over from where he had been overseeing the arduous process of getting the necessary tools and gadgets loaded onto the plane. “You’re sitting on my seismograph, Barnes.”

“Yeah? I gotta say it’s awfully comfy.” Not even the barest hint of amusement crossed Fury’s face. Bucky sighed and pushed himself to his feet, draping the hoodie over his shoulder as he came to stand next to her. “What do you even need something like that for?”

“These things don’t exactly come on quietly,” Fury said. “At least that’s what I gathered from the one we saw in Mexico. Beck said it was better to bring it along just in case.”

Bucky glanced around the abandoned tarmac. “Where is Houdini, anyway?”

Cassie wasn’t fast enough to stop the snort that escaped her, a hand flying up to her face with an audible _smack_ to stifle her laughter. It turned out that Quentin Beck was not just your run of the mill soldier on his Earth, but something akin to what Tony Stark had been. The major difference lay in the fact that he could apparently use some kind of magic.

Bucky, for whatever reason, wasn’t convinced.

Fury pointedly ignored the quip. “He should be here soon. Said he wanted to make one last sweep of Manhattan to make sure he isn’t reading the signs wrong.”

“So he _is_ coming with us?” Cassie asked. She still had some questions for their newfound ally, the most pertinent centered around this other dimension he claimed to hail from. And there was also the issue of his strange behavior around her. He hadn’t even so much as waved at her when they went their separate ways to prepare.

She needed some time to attempt to wheedle it all out of him, and a nine hour flight in the hold of a cargo plane seemed like the perfect place for that.

A frown pulled at the corner of her mouth. On second thought, best not think about how long the flight would be.

“As far as I know,” Fury said. “Don’t really know how keen he is on flying solo across the Atlantic.”

“Please,” Bucky pleaded half-heartedly, “don’t get her started.”

Cassie elbowed him in the gut, earning her a satisfying ‘ _oof_ ’ from the larger man. Though it may have just been for her benefit.

Fury shook his head before turning to wander back toward the rear of the plane, calling over his shoulder, “Be ready to board in thirty minutes.”

“Oh, joy,” she mumbled, her hand coming up to press the heel of her palm to her forehead. The fact that she could already feel a headache blooming behind her eyes probably wasn’t a good sign. And she’d forgotten to buy gum for the flight. Great.

“So,” Bucky began, his gaze on the horizon. It was a beautiful day, with puffy, white clouds perfectly complimenting the sky’s azure coloring. Ideal flying weather. And if Beck was everything he claimed himself to be, they would be able to see him coming from miles away. “What do you _really_ make of all of this?”

Cassie let out a long, deep breath through her nose, tucking a lock of her burgundy hair behind her ear. A loaded question if she’d ever heard one. “Well, monsters made of the four elements wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing we’ve ever seen.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” He looked down at her, his six-foot frame dwarfing her five-foot tall stature. “‘Another Earth’? Really?”

She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the horizon. If she squinted, she could make out the vague outline of the Manhattan skyline in the far distance, the skyscrapers piercing through the light haze shrouding the city like freshly sharpened knives. “It’s… definitely a lot. But not outside the realm of possibility, I guess.”

“Am I the only one here that smells a rat?” He sounded genuinely frustrated. “Even Fury seems on board with this whole thing.”

That was the most bizarre part of all of this. As much as she wanted to believe Beck’s story, something about it just didn’t feel right. Like she was missing something. She thought back to the way he spoke, his theatrical cadence. Even his bearing seemed… _rehearsed_ , as ridiculous as that sounded. It was subtle, only just barely there, but enough to catch her attention, enough to make her wary.

And yet Fury believed him. Trusted him, even. And Fury didn’t trust anyone.

“There’s an odor for sure,” Cassie agreed. “But I’m not sure of the source yet.”

The familiar, cool touch of his metal hand on her chin sent a delightful shiver up her spine as he angled her face toward him, forcing her green eyed gaze to meet his. Beneath the light of the sun, his eyes were the color of snow-capped mountains. 

“We don’t have to do this,” he said softly. Tenderly. “Just say the word and I’ll tell them all to go fuck themselves, and we can go home. Fury and the carnival sideshow can deal with whatever this is.”

She gnawed on her bottom lip. He would do it, she knew he would, but not just for her. He wanted peace, he wanted rest. There were others that could step in now, as Beck’s presence proved. There was no need for him, for either of them, to keep fighting, to continue to balance the fate of the world on their shoulders. Bucky more than deserved to live out the rest of his days as a simple, normal man. He had earned it decades ago, but now it was actually possible, within his grasp.

But she couldn’t rest. Not while those nightmares continued to haunt her. Not while plumes of ash floated through her mind like so many snowflakes.

And she hated herself for it. Because he would never let her take on the world’s enemies alone.

Cassie attempted a smile, though she was sure it must’ve come across as more of a grimace. Her hand came up to pat at his chest, the comforting feeling of his heartbeat beneath her fingers a balm on her frayed nerves. “It’s fine,” she said, her voice mercifully steady. “One last hoorah, huh? Then we can go on that cruise to the Bahamas, and we can see how that arm of yours holds up when surrounded by nothing but sand.”

The briefest flicker of disappointment shone in those ice blue eyes, the only sign that he had so hoped she would want a way out of this as much as he did. It was gone within the span of a single breath, replaced by a warm smile and loving gaze—but it was enough to make her heart drop into the very bowels of her stomach.

What a selfish, vile person she was.

“One last hoorah,” he said, his voice wistful. How many times had he been told that this time would be the last time? That he just needed to fight one more battle, and they would leave him be? “I guess we better make it a doozy.”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward, though the sour taste of bile coated her tongue. “I guess so, soldier boy.”

A small huff of a laugh slipped through his lips, but it was cut short as his gaze was drawn to something in the distance. He squinted, gently pushing Cassie behind him.

“What is it?” She followed his line of sight, expecting to see—well, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t Beck coming to a stop in midair before them, hovering at least ten feet off the ground.

With what looked like a mist filled glass orb where his head should be.

“Well, then,” Bucky said, his hands resting on his hips as he stared up at the interdimensional soldier, “son of a bitch _can_ fly.”

* * *

To Bucky’s credit, it took about thirty-two minutes into the flight for him to make a snide remark about Beck’s strange headgear.

Although, she wasn’t an entirely reliable source, as she spent pretty much every moment leading up to takeoff alternating between praying to whatever gods still deigned to listen and dissociating. She might have missed a quip or two.

“So, did you buy it at that gift shop on forty-first and sixth?” Bucky asked nonchalantly, his brow furrowed in faux-curiosity. What an asshole. “I always thought they had the best souvenir snow globes.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Cassie admonished, kicking at his shin from where she still sat in one of the seats lining the plane’s hollowed out cargo hold. They were far from the minimal comforts of even the cheapest accommodations on a commercial aircraft, the seats placed parallel to each other on either side of the hold and made of the same tightly stretched canvas you’d find on a military cot. Not even the slightest bit of cushioning lay between the occupant and its cold, metal frame, the mercilessly straight backed seat forcing you to sit with your back pressed flush against the meager padding that acted as a buffer between you and the hard surface of the wall. 

The ability to recline and maybe exit the plane without a spinal injury wasn’t a top priority on a military grade transport, apparently.

“What?” Bucky didn’t even pretend to be remotely pained by her vain attempt to silence him. God, she hated him sometimes. “It’s an honest question.”

“Barnes,” Fury cut in, that same bluish hued hologram of the planet hovering in the air before him, somewhat distorting the clear irritation upon his face. Beck stood to his left, seemingly unperturbed by Bucky’s remark. “We’re now down to a little more than eight hours to get something resembling a plan together. Unless, of course, you’d prefer this be a ‘fly by the seat of your pants’ kind of mission?”

Bucky had the good sense to look properly chastised, straightening slightly as whatever mirth had been playing upon his features drained away into a blank mask of neutrality. Served him right.

“No, sir,” he said, his voice low and his body stiff. She had a feeling he was resisting the urge to stand at attention. A habit he had yet to break.

“As I was saying,” Fury said, “there’s been a spike in electromagnetic activity in a town on the coast of Morocco. I’d usually write it off as a sun flare or an anomaly in our satellites, but Mr. Beck assures me that this is a telltale sign of one of the Elementals preparing to attack.”

“They draw their energy from the earth,” Beck said, studying the hologram intensely. “We were always able to predict where they would hit next by the electromagnetic pulses they emitted. Sometimes seismic activity, as well. It depended on which one we were facing.”

“And what are the signs pointing to now, Mr. Beck?” Cassie asked.

Beck was quiet, his gaze locked on that highlighted point at the north-western tip of Africa, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Have there been any drastic changes in the weather, Director?”

Fury glanced over his shoulder toward where Maria Hill was standing a few feet behind him, her sharp features accentuated by the rather harsh fluorescent lighting. “Satelites indicate a storm is brewing a few miles off the coast. Morocco’s known to be pretty dry this time of year, but an errant storm wouldn’t be entirely out of character.”

Beck hummed, his eyes still focused on that single splotch of red in a sea of blue. “Can you overlay the satellite imagery with this hologram?”

Fury nodded and Hill rapidly keyed something into the tablet she had resting in the crook of her arm. A second later, the hologram changed from a flat, texture-less view of the planet to what she could only assume was a live view of Earth and the various storm cells that dotted its surface. To the southwest of their destination sat a rather large cluster of clouds, the dark gray mass undulating slowly as it made its way toward land.

“There,” Beck said, pointing at that swirling bundle of clouds. “Far too close to the source of those pulses for my taste. That must be it.”

“And what exactly is ‘it,’ Beck?” Bucky asked, only just the barest hint of edge to his words.

“The air Elemental,” Beck said, his voice grave. “Back on my world, it was known to take the form of cyclones, masking its presence within massive storm cells. We usually didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

“It’s also hurricane season, y’know.” Bucky locked eyes with Cassie briefly before he continued. He was fishing for any inconsistencies in Beck’s story, inconsistencies she could hopefully exploit whenever she got a moment to talk to him. “Sure, it’s a bit early for something this big, but climate change has been kind of a bitch lately, hasn’t it?”

Beck shook his head. “The Elementals rely on such assumptions, Sergeant Barnes. They know how to fool you. They fooled the people on my Earth long enough to get a foothold, and we were never able to recover.”

Bucky just released a resigned sigh. “So, what’s the plan? Not exactly sure how we fight a storm.”

“Leave that to me,” Beck said, and Cassie couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow at the subtle change in his demeanor. His voice was sharper, confidence bleeding into every word. He stood just a bit straighter, his shoulders a solid frame upon which his golden armor and plum colored cape sat. The very embodiment of a soldier ready for war. “I have experience fighting these monsters. Were it up to me, I’d have involved none of you in this.”

“But it’s not up to you,” Fury interjected. “I am the authority on the safety of this planet, so all plans go through me first.”

Beck turned to face him, his hands held out in a placating gesture. “Of course. I meant no disrespect. It’s just that I know them. I’ve fought them countless times in countless battles. I know how they work and what will bring them down.”

“And I know a suicide mission when I see one,” Fury snapped, staring down Beck with an intensity that would have sent any sane man running—but Beck’s shoulders simply slumped, his lips pressed together into a tight, thin line, and he was silent.

An emotion Cassie was afraid to place suddenly seized at her heart, her gaze drifting down to stare at the scuffed, gray floor. Anything was better than having to see the stricken look that now sat in plain view upon Beck’s face.

A look she knew all too well.

“Barnes,” Hill spoke up, breaking the tense silence that had settled over them. “We need you to go through our inventory and decide what you think you’re gonna need.”

Bucky snorted. “I don’t think a grenade launcher’s gonna be much help against a cloud.”

Hill raised a single, finely manicured brow, her lips twisting into a wry smile. “Would you rather go running into a mass of panicked and terrified people unarmed and wearing jeans and a t-shirt?”

Bucky’s rather self-assured expression crumpled into something akin to embarrassment, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he undoubtedly resisted another witty retort. After a beat, and yet another resigned sigh, he strode forward to follow Hill toward the rear of the plane where numerous wooden crates lay strapped to the steel floor, mumbling under his breath all the while.

Fury regarded Beck with a steely-eyed gaze. “Keep thinkin’ on that plan. The clock’s ticking, and by the looks of that storm, we’re gonna be cutting it close.”

With that, Fury turned on his heel to follow Hill and Bucky, their voices echoing indistinctly against the bare, metal walls as they rummaged through crates of supplies and weaponry.

A hot pang of irritation rippled through Cassie as she watched him go. As much as she knew that she was only there to ensure Bucky followed through with his agreement, it didn’t exactly lessen the sting of being so blatantly left out of all of the prep and planning. 

She let out a long, drawn out breath through her nose as she crossed her arms over her chest. Whatever, she’d find a way to make herself useful.

She glanced sidelong at Beck, his expression willfully blank as he stared up at the hologram that continued in its slow rotation, his jaw clenched tight enough to show the strain in the muscles along his cheeks.

Well, she’d wanted time to talk. She certainly had it now.

“Don’t mind him,” she began, allowing a small, amiable smile to grace her lips. Beck started at the sound of her voice before he looked at her, as if he had forgotten she was there. She fought against the urge to scream. “He was never really the most cheerful guy around, but since he came back after being dust for five years, he’s been an especially giant dick.”

Beck emitted a soft, amused _hmph_ , the slight quirk of his lips hardly visible from where she sat a mere few feet from him. “I’ve fought under men like him before. They mean well, but they’re never ready to relinquish even a modicum of their power to someone else, no matter how qualified that person may be to take command.”

Cassie leaned forward in her seat, her legs crossing at the knee as her chin came to rest in the palm of her hand. The picture of interest. There was no better way to get someone to talk—especially a man. “So, you really were a soldier, then."

“Still am, as far as I can tell,” he said, gesturing to the space around them. “The last of a lost battalion, it would seem.”

Her head tilted to the side a fraction. He hadn’t been the only one fighting them, then. “There were others? Like you, I mean.”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath before he answered. “Yes. Many others, in fact. My battalion specialized in arcane warfare. It was the only thing that seemed to have any effect on the Elementals.”

“You all fought with magic?” She didn’t have to fake her surprise. She thought he’d have been the only one with such power. “Does that mean you all had this whole—” She gestured up toward her face, her finger making a circular motion around her head, “—thing going on?”

A quiet chuckle escaped him, and Cassie couldn’t help the triumphant smirk that pulled at her mouth. This was a far cry from the Quentin Beck she’d met in the warehouse. “Those of the arcana, yes,” he replied, taking a step toward her, his hands clasped in front of him. “A sign of our experience and rank. A beacon for the infantry to flock to on the battlefield.”

“You weren’t part of the rank and file, then.” Her smile turned cheeky, teasing. Now she was getting somewhere. “Should Bucky and I be standing at attention when you enter the room?”

“No, no.” He shook his head, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Not at all. Besides, I’d say Sergeant Barnes and I are on pretty equal footing.”

Her brow shot up. “You’re a sergeant?”

He made an uncertain hand motion. “Sergeant equivalent, I’d say. I lead my own squad, but I still have plenty of people to answer to, if that’s what you mean.”

“Interesting,” she said, and she meant it. “Did you lead a squad of magic users? Or were you put in charge of a bunch of poor saps with guns?”

His face fell, and she knew she’d overstepped. “We were all of the arcana, yes.”

She caught his use of the past tense, her playful mask slipping as a terrible dread settled into her blood.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft. Perhaps even sad. “I don’t know what happened to them. I haven’t really had much time to think about it. We were among the remnants of a final attempt at a counter offensive. A last ditch effort to salvage what was left of the world.”

A yawning pit opened up in her chest, his expression uncomfortably familiar. She thought of Bucky and the survivor’s guilt that still tore at his heart. More than once she’d caught him staring at the various World War II memorials they’d come across in their time together, his face blank and his eyes hard. He didn’t talk about that part of his life very often, but she knew it played more than a small role in whatever nightmares jolted him from his sleep.

She swallowed, suddenly hesitant to probe into Beck’s all too recent grief. Bucky’s still ached after all this time, with decades to heal and forget. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, averting her gaze to the floor as a sudden wave of shame washed over her. The gentle rumble of the plane’s engines filled the silence, the noise almost overtaking the hushed discussions coming from somewhere toward the back. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t be,” he said, and Cassie looked up to meet his gaze. A faint fondness danced in his light eyes. “I’m just surprised. This is the first time anyone’s asked about _me_ since I got here, not just what I know.”

That only made her shame deepen, her hands fidgeting where they lay in her lap. She’d been so eager to pick apart his story, to find the source of that nagging suspicion that had vexed her since he walked through the doors of the warehouse, that she hadn’t even considered the road the led Beck here, the loss and horror he had experienced.

And he was grateful for it, for her probing questions and playful curiosity, because he thought her to be the first to see him as a person, not as an asset.

Just as Bucky had been all those years ago.

A terrible burning sensation crept its way up her throat. She wanted to throw up.

“Still,” she managed to say, trying her best to hide how her hands trembled, “that was insensitive of me. You’ve been through a lot. The last thing you want to do is answer a million questions about your life back on your world.”

“It’s more a comfort than you might think,” he said, taking another step toward her. He stood less than three strides from her, and she could see now that his face had softened considerably. “I don’t want them to have died in obscurity. I don’t want this all to have been for nothing. Talking about them, no matter how vague the terms, makes me feel like they’re still here with me, even worlds away.”

If only she could relate to that. Just the mere thought of Bucky, of all they had lost after that fateful day, had been enough to send her into a grief fueled rage. She hadn’t wanted to remember, she hadn’t wanted to reminisce—she had wanted them all _back_. Memories did little but make her ache for a future she couldn’t have.

She could only hope that Beck wouldn’t wind up like that, bitter and angry and filled with the desperate desire to join those he’d lost.

“We find comfort where we can,” she agreed, suddenly weary.

Beck smiled in return, though it was tight and strained. It reminded her of the smile he had given her upon their first introduction, and the fondness she had seen in his eyes had dissipated into something heavier, something like… _yearning_.

And she found it made her distinctly uncomfortable.

“Uh, Mr. Beck?” she tried, a nervous smile playing upon her lips. “Everything okay?”

He blinked a few times, as if he were fighting back tears. “Yes, of course. My apologies. It’s just…” he trailed off, his voice thick. He looked at her as if he had seen a ghost, a ghost he longed to be of this Earth once more. “You remind me of someone, is all.”

It was like a punch to the chest, forcing all of the air out of her lungs in one swift exhale. She knew that tone, had used it more times than she could count.

But she never realized how much it would hurt to be on the receiving end of it.

Cassie pushed herself to her feet, moving to close the distance between them, to offer some sort of comfort. Anything at all. Anything to push that agony back into the recesses of her mind where it belonged, to wipe away the ashes that clouded her vision.

“Mr. Beck—” she began, her hand outstretched. A strange look crossed his face, one that made her hesitate. What could she possibly say to him? She thought of every platitude she’d ever heard, and how much she hated every single one of them. They were a reflex, something to say to make yourself feel better, with no real consideration for the one in need of genuine compassion.

And there were no words that could fill the hole in his heart, just as there had been none to fill the hole in hers.

It was then, right as she opened her mouth to speak, that the telltale sound of combat boots upon the metal floor reached her ears. She looked away from Beck, an overwhelming feeling of relief rushing through her as she saw Bucky approaching. He was newly outfitted in loose, black cargo pants and a fitted black shirt that was conveniently missing the left sleeve, leaving the dark silver metal of his arm free to glint brightly beneath the fluorescent lighting.

And based on the tentative smile on his face, he could see something was wrong.

“Everything okay over here?” he asked, his right arm wrapping itself around her waist, pulling her close to his side. He kept his voice light, conversational, but his grip on her told a different story.

“We’re fine,” she said, looking up at him with what she could only hope was a subtle, pleading expression. _I’ll tell you later_ , she thought. _Just let it go_. “Just talking. You know how I am when I’m nervous. I babble like an idiot.”

Bucky must’ve caught the hint, because he merely rolled his eyes. “Better him than me.”

She forced a laugh as Beck wandered wordlessly over toward where Fury and Hill now stood around the hologram, joining them in their continued planning. “Real charming, Barnes.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her lips, his hold on her tightening a fraction.

And out of the corner of her eye, she spied Beck watching them, his hand fidgeting with that simple gold band upon his ring finger.


End file.
